


The Lazy End of the Deal

by zarabithia



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Domesticity, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the boundaries that used to exist between them are getting increasingly fuzzy. But maybe brunch isn't the time that Clint should worry about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lazy End of the Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Treatyoself requested clint/kate "brunch" for the domesticity meme.

It's still not her dog, and it's still not her apartment. Despite the shared bed, and the fact that those scattered earrings that he'd missed so much while she'd been gone (it should not actually be that possible to miss earrings that aren't actually his _that_ much) have found their way back to his apartment, and despite the fact that her earrings and her 730 different types of soap are currently trying to win a war of "who can take up the most space in Clint's apartment?" ... it's still not _hers._

It's not even _theirs._ Not like the bed is. 

But really, when has that ever stopped Kate Bishop? Really, when has Clint ever _wanted_ that to stop Kate Bishop? 

Even if he could remember a time in which that had been the case - and he really, really can't - telling her so this particular morning would be particularly ungrateful. Because on this morning, when Clint stumbles his way out of bed at roughly noon, Kate is sitting at the counter in a pair of Avengers boxers, eating a plate of eggs and sausage and waving a bag at him.

"I brought you some back," she says. "Happy brunch." 

"Brunch is something that old ladies do on Sundays after church, so they can feel better about their gossip," Clint mumbles. But he takes the bag, and he opens it, and inside is the most incredible smelling waffles and muffins that the little bakery six blocks down makes. 

Clint knows this for a fact, because Kate has eaten there more days than she has _not_ eaten there in the past year. She is quite fond of telling him how much better the bakery is than his sad attempts at milk and cereal, and really, sometimes Clint argues with her because it's fun, and othertimes because milk and cereal cannot _actually_ be sad. 

"Pretty sure there's some misogyny in that comment that we need to talk about," Kate says. "And for that, I'm drinking the coffee I brought you. You'll have to make your own." 

He scowls, but she ignores him and gives the rest of her eggs to Lucky. "No wheat gluten for the dog," she says firmly, and Clint waits until the coffee is mostly done before he sits back down at the counter across from her.

She watches him drink coffee from the pot while she sips the previously intended for him still-plain-but-much-more-expensive black coffee from the bakery's distinct yellow and green logo, and he takes note of the fact that Kate's Avengers boxers are very purple. 

"Hope you didn't wear that out to get the food," Clint says. "Little cold for that." 

"It's 100 degrees outside," Kate says with an eyeroll, while she fingers off a bite of his muffin. The thin grey strap off her shirt - also Avengers themed, for the record, Clint notes appreciatively - slips off the top of her shoulder and Clint allows himself a moment of distraction, because that shoulder is definitely worth it. 

"It's barely 80," Clint argues, when he can concentrate again. "I thought you did some time on the West Coast, girly girl. Did you do anything besides flirt with supervillains? Such as get used to actual heat and not New York's pathetic attempts?" 

"Is this where you bitch about the terrible Midwest weather that you haven't seen in forever, or is this where you tell me more stories from the West Coast glory days?" Kate asks doubtfully. A piece of sausage is tossed in the general direction of Lucky, who catches it easily, because Kate's aim really is perfect. "Those stories are far more interesting when Bobbi tells them. Hey, why didn't you ever tell me that you could cook? We could be having barbecue instead of cold pizza. Or, you know, real eggs instead of eggs from the place six blocks away. I feel like I'm getting the lazy end of the deal, there, Hawkeye." 

And just like that, he's sitting in a kitchen 3000 miles away, cooking for Bobbi for a brunch that was supposed to be romantic and sexy and he's putting so much _effort_ into it. But that hadn't lasted, because no matter how much they'd both worked at it, in the end, it hadn't been enough. 

He doesn't want this ... whatever it is... with Kate to end that badly. He doesn't want Kate to feel more comfortable when she's away from him than when she's sitting across from him, eating the half of her brunch that she's not giving to Lucky and the half of his brunch that he's not quick enough to get to before she does. 

"I wasn't rich then, Katie," he says dismissively, instead. "Had to make the food budget stretch a little better than just running out and buying take-out whenever I feel like it." 

She rolls her eyes at him, and this doesn't feel like work at _all_ , and Clint's not sure if that's a good sign or a horrifying one. But he does know that this half-hearted brunch feels just as good as the ones he used to work so hard at, so maybe he'll take that for what it's worth - and maybe he'll hold on to it for dear life until Katie finally comes to her senses and realizes she could do better. 

In the meantime, Clint gets to work on his waffles.


End file.
